Heart's Desire
by ManhattanWitch
Summary: After defeating Voldemort, Harry gets struck by an unknown curse, while the Minister is out to vilify him. Can he overcome, or will he go under? More inside.


_**Title**__- Heart's Desire_

_**Summary**__- After defeating Voldemort, Harry gets struck by an unknown curse, while the Minister is out to vilify him. Can he overcome, or will he go under?_

_**Warnings**__- Character death, blood, gore, cursing, manipulation_

_**Disclaimer**__- J.K., while glorious in and of her self, would not write like this. We'd all die of happiness if she did, but she doesn't. That means that I'm not her. Need I say more?_

_**Author's Note**__- 1) However much this may look like a Harry/ Hermione pairing, it's not. It's Drarry. 2) Two Part fic. Second Part is called Conscious Wish. 3) Written from 8:00pm to Midnight. Be kind._

… … …

Shouts obscured my hearing as blood dripped into my eyes. I shook my head a little, hoping to clear my sight, but I dared not take my eyes off of the monster in front of me.

His laugh, high pitched, grated against my nerves. "Poor Harry Potter, finally alone with the fountain of his nightmares," he hissed, serpentine face twisted in an ugly mockery of elation.

I shrugged, negligently swinging my wand back and forth. "And if those so called nightmares had bothered me even a little, I might be worried. As it is…" I trailed off, and smiled as his face lost all expression. The most predictable Tom was an angry Tom. _Now, if only I could get my damn scar to stop bleeding_, I thought, but it was a waste of a wish.

The circle of Death Eaters around us surged forward a bit at my words, but a slight gesture from their Master halted them. Until Tom was dead, they were nothing to fear.

Shaking my head sadly, I continued. "Tom, Tom, Tom, how many times do I have to tell you- black is just not your look. Actually, neither is the whole snake thing you've got going on. You just have no fashion sense."

I grinned as he steadily got more enraged. And continued taunting, not allowing him to get a word in edgewise. "And, really- Lucious? Of all the tops that you could choose from, you had to choose the most girly of them? That says something about you, Tom, and I'm not sure I like it."

A muffled sound came from one of the robes, and my grin got a little wider as I realized that I might have an ally here after all. But my delay in handing out another taunt cost me.

"Silence!" he roared. I raised an eyebrow. If that was the best he could do… "You have wasted enough time with your foolishness." His wand came up, but I was ready for him. After all, this was what I'd been planning on.

His _Crucio_ was easily blocked by my _Protego_, and the fight started in earnest. Hexes and curses and spells flew back and forth, each of us managing to avoid the casts of the other. Eventually, though, just as I'd known would happen, Tom got tired of playing defense and tried to press his supposed advantage.

I ducked an ugly beam of red light and whipped my wand up before he could recover, blasting the Killing Curse at his chest. It hit him and he froze, face caught in a gruesome rictus of surprise. He slowly toppled over, and I turned away from him, shocked as hell that the curse had worked on him, to the crowd around me.

I just stared at them, knowing that help was coming, and not wanting to speak for fear that my voice would shake.

But their shock at the Death of their Lord wore off sooner than I had expected, for one of them stepped forward and threw back their- _her_ - hood. Bellatrix Lestrange. Insane eyes wide and glittering with disbelief, she kept looking from her Master's corpse to me, and back again.

Her lips trembled as she started to speak, but the words were so low I couldn't catch them. I fingered my wand, wondering uneasily when the Order would show up. The threat of her was beginning to pass through the haze in my mind, and I did not want to be here when the rest of them came to their senses.

Seconds later, motion in the bushes caught both my eye and hers. Relieved that the Order was coming, I forgot to watch her. The only thing that saved me from a very bad cursing was the quick action of one of the Death Eaters. An _Immobilus_ froze her in place, hand outstretched, wand pointed vaguely in my direction.

I tried looking for the one that had helped me, but in the mass of cattle herded, shell shocked Death Eaters, I couldn't tell who had done it. I just hoped that they got the recognition the action deserved.

Someone had taken Bellatrix's wand, leaving the madwoman in place until a team from St. Mungos could pick her up. But the curse, which should have held her until it was ended, seemed to disappear by itself. Though her wand was gone, it didn't stop her drive to hurt me. Hermione had just placed her hand on my head to stop the bleeding when Lestrange moved, flinging up her hand and shrieking a spell.

Reflexes honed by years of war kicked in, and I ducked, but I was tired, and the end of it touched me. But that was enough. The world started spinning and dancing around me, and I collapsed onto the dirt. I'd hoped that it would stop the crazy dance the earth had decided to do, but it didn't. It got worse and worse until I couldn't take anymore and slipped into unconsciousness.

… … …

I woke up disoriented, but the heavy weight on my stomach was enough to tell me that I was in an Inrirmary. I'd been injured enough, severely enough, over the years that Hermione had taken to keeping bedside vigil over me until I was on my way to recovery. More often than not, I woke up to find her asleep with her head pillowed on some part of my anatomy.

The slight motion I must have made when I woke had her sitting up and peering into my eyes like the Medi Witch she was. Only when she was satisfied that I would live did she give me the 'okay' sign I had learned to wait for.

"So. Bellatrix knows wandless, and no one thought to inform me of that fact. Gods, but I love the Ministry, don't you?" was the first thing out of my mouth.

Hermione's lips tightened, a throwback to watching McGonagall for all those years. "Those bloody morons. You will sue them for withholding vital information, won't you, Harry?"

I nodded, then groaned as the motion reminded my head that it had just had an uncomfortable encounter with the ground.

"Yeah, sure, whatever floats your boat. What the _fuck_ did she hit me with?" I gritted out against the pain. Hermione was a fucking mind reader- she knew what was hurting before I had even told her and cast a couple healing charms on me before answering.

She sat back with a sigh, arms crossed. "I'm not altogether sure, Harry." she admitted, sounding a bit miffed. "The beam from her hand looked a bit like a, well" she shifted, then blurted out, "a love spell, but it acted like a crucio. Frankly, I haven't a clue."

I snorted. Only Hermione, great big bookworm that she is, would break a spell down to its components. "But what's it going to do to me?" I asked.

"I don't know." It sounded like a team of oxen had pulled _that_ answer out of her.

I settled back against the pillows, rolling my eyes as I kept the mood light. I did not want to think about all the things that could go wrong with this. "So, you're going to keep the invalid locked up, observe him, and determine the curse by the effects?" I asked as a joke.

It didn't stay a joke for long as I watched Hermione shift guilty on her chair. "You're serious?" I asked. She nodded. "Don't I have celebratory parties to go to, or something?"

"They've been postponed until you get better." she said miserably.

I shook my head. "Hermione, I don't understand. Why are you keeping locked up?"

She looked ready to cry. "I'm not, Harry- they found a way around the contract and took my rights as executor and guardian away from me."

I shook my head, certain I'd heard something wrong. But the misery on her face was confirmation enough. My voice was ice when I asked, "Who?"

"Rufus." she whispered. My nostrils flared. The Minister, the man who's job was owed to me, the man I'd thought of as friend, had done this to me?

Hermione had been the executor of my living will since seventh year, when I was old enough to make these decisions for myself, and my Medi Witch since she got her license. There was a Contract of Responsibility that outlined every detail, every minute point of my life, that specified her as my caretaker and guardian in case of injury, and now this? Now some jumped up, good for nothing _arsehole_ was going to try to take that away from me?!

Her hand on my chest was the only thing keeping me from finding the traitor and ripping out his intestines.

"What about Snape? Dumbledore? Minerva? Did any of them contest it?"

"We all did, Harry, but nothing we said made a difference. He had an answer to every point we raised, a rebuttal to every legal precedent, _everything. _It was like he'd been planning this."

My vision was going red, but this time it wasn't from blood. Hermione knew me well enough to grab my head and force me to look at her.

"Wait until you're better, and I'll hold him down while you gut him. But don't do this now, when he's got people scared that you'll turn into another Voldemort. Wait, and make them turn on _him_. You saved the world, not some sniveling little coward hiding behind the Aurors."

I dragged a deep breath into my lungs, and them another, and finally my sight started to clear. I nodded sharply. Hermione let go of my head, studied my eyes, and then returned my nod.

I needed space to let the information about the traitor settle into my head, so I changed the subject. "Did you guys ever find out who froze her in the first place?"

Hermione looked a bit startled at the change of topic, but answered. "Yes, actually. You'll never guess."

I pinned her with an annoyed glare and she gave a playful huff. "Fine. It was Malfoy Jr."

"I… um, _what?_" I stuttered.

She was happy to fill in the blanks. "Apparently, he'd been a spy for Dumbledore ever since he joined the Dark Lord. Veritaserum and pensive memories prove it, too. Pretty spectacular, hmm?"

I nodded slowly. This was too much information for all at once. And Hermione, being my own personal mind reader, could tell. So she stood up, took my temperature one last time, and placed a big, smacking kiss on my scar.

"I forgot- congratulations, Harry- you did it!" Her grin was infectious, and I grinned back.

"Yeah. Yeah, I guess I did."

… … …

It was only after she left, of course, that I remembered all the things I'd wanted to ask her. Casualties, for one, and why on earth the Traitor had chosen Hogwarts to be my cell.

With a sigh, I dragged myself out of bed and walked over to the window. The ground was covered in pure, crystalline white, but for a moment I saw red streaks marring it, saw bodies half buried in the drifts. I pushed those thoughts away with a gasp and trapped them back in their cage. All I wanted was to see was the endless white snow in front of me, not recall endless nights of gore and horror.

I shivered a little, and placed a hand on the wall. Hogwarts was fond of me, the lonely adventurer who had discovered her secret places. She liked that I was daring enough to venture where no soul had gone for centuries, and because of that, permitted me certain liberties with her. Like raising the temperature in a drafty old castle. I felt a rumble of displeasure a the word 'old'. But it was a playful mutter, and I smiled.

Hogwarts told me that I was the only person in the castle right now- would I like to get something to eat? At my flare of hunger, a door molded itself out of the rock of the wall. I grinned. The castle never was one for half measures.

… … …

I was back in the Infirmary, sitting in my bed and staring out of the window. Hogwarts had obligingly made it bigger so I could see the grounds from my current position. A gentle flurry was coming down, so vague and soft. The sight of it was mesmerizing, and I pulled the covers up to my chin as my eyelids slid shut.

My dreams felt the same; distant inklings of promising comfort, like a cozy blanket around my shoulders. But there was something else, just beyond my reach, beckoning to me like an old friend. I tried to grasp it, my hand almost touching it, when I was jarred awake by the sound of grinding stone.

The walls were putting themselves back together, which could only mean one thing- I had visitors. I pushed the dream out of my mind and turned to the doors.

They swung open to reveal the Traitor, followed by Shacklebolt and Tonks. Both Aurors looked anywhere but me. I knew them well enough to know it was shame that kept their eyes away, not fear or any other nonsense.

"And how are we feeling, Mr. Potter?" came the former Head Aurors voice. I ground my teeth and looked at him, replaying Hermione's advice in my head.

"Not bad, all things considered. And how is the re-election campaign coming?" I was proud of how steady my voice was.

"Quite well, thanks to you, Mr. Potter. Now that the Dark Lord is out of the way, the people are feeling very generous to the Minister that led them through such a dark time. And I have you to thank for that, don't I?"

I just raised an eyebrow. I'd learned from Malfoy that the gesture makes others talk, to fill in the silence, especially when they're nervous. When the blond first did it to me, I almost told him my life story.

It worked now on Rufus. "Or course I do, of course I do." He looked around, obviously uncomfortable with my silence, and said, "Cozy little spot you have here, hmm?"

I saw Tonks roll her eyes. The man was not the brightest tool in the shed.

He fidgeted, and I let the quiet stretch on. Finally he'd had enough. "Well, I shall be back to check on your progress. Don't get well too quickly- elections are in a month. I'd hate to have them ruined."

He turned and walked out, brusquely pushing past his guards. They both stayed for a second longer, mouthing 'sorry', before the dulcet tones of their boss called to them from down the hall. I nodded and waved them out. It was nice to know that, should I have the need, I had two people on the inside.

I snorted at my foolishness.

… … …

The days had passed quickly, filled with hours of staring out of windows and wandering the Wing. The only interesting thing that was happening was, more precisely, annoying. My dreams had been getting restless recently. The feeling of need, of _longing_ to be somewhere, or with someone, or doing something never quite left me. It was, in fact, getting stronger everyday. The frustrating thing about it was that when I was asleep, I knew exactly what I wanted. I knew where it was, and how to get there, and what to do when I arrived. But the second I woke up, the knowledge vanished with the dream.

I mentioned it in passing to Hermione at breakfast the next day. Her brow furrowed, but since she didn't make any comment, I just continued the conversation. Her answers were short and sharp, but I knew her. Eventually, she'd say something not even remotely related to whatever I was babbling on about.

And I was proven right fifteen minutes later. "Tell me again what happens in your dreams," she demanded in the middle of my narrative about white marble versus green when making the Juniper Potion.

I shook my head and repeated what I'd said earlier. "There's this feeling, like the one thing I'd ever wanted was just beyond my reach, and no matter how hard I try, I can't touch it. But the most infuriating thing is that I know what it is in the dream- just, not once I wake up."

She nodded and backed up her bag, telling me distractedly, "I'm heading to the library. Come get me if you need anything."

I sighed as I watched her leave. The largest library's in the world were open to her now, but if there was something she needed to look up, to Hogwarts she went. I don't think I'll ever understand her.

… … …

It was two days before I saw her again, two days in which the dreams got worse. The comforting feeling of the first one was gone, replaced by feelings of anxiety and haste.

She strolled into the Infirmary at three in the morning, some trick of hers telling her I was awake.

I didn't acknowledge her until she shoved a copy of the Daily Prophet under my nose. "Read this, please." she ordered. I rolled my eyes and grabbed the paper with ill grace.

_**Malfoy Jr. Found Innocent of all crimes!**_

_In a shocking turn of events, the Minister of Magic declared, based on extensive evidence, that the youngest Malfoy was to go free, that all charges were to be dropped, that his properties and vaults be returned to his care in the state they were when they were confiscated, and that he be accorded the honor he deserves as the spy who brought about the fall of the Dark Lord._

_Sources close to the Minister say that he is pleased with the public's acceptance of the younger Malfoy. Having worked closely with the man for years during the war, our sources say that the former Death Eater acted above and beyond the call of duty out of love for his country._

_At the courthouse when Malfoy was set free, chaos broke loose and Aurors had to be called to contain the violence. It was suggested that…_

I tossed the paper away in disgust. "The Traitor just made himself another martyr." I scowled, my bad mood not lifted at all. "Malfoy's probably sucking up all the attention."

Hermione rolled her eyes and handed me another paper. "Now read this one."

The front page of the Quibbler was less dramatic than that of the Prophet, at least.

_**Malfoy Jr. Speaks Out About His Heroics**_

_In a conference yesterday, Mr. Malfoy told me in no uncertain terms that, while he was grateful to the Minister for clearing his name, he wasn't a hero at all. In fact, he claimed with a self-deprecating laugh, he was exactly the opposite. "I chose the easy route," Mr. Malfoy said. "It might not have seemed that way, but believe me- joining the Dark Lord was, then, the more cowardly option."_

_He went on to say that his actions as right hand man to the Dark Lord were reported to another agent, who passed it up to the Head Auror and then on to the Minister for final authorization and approval. He never actually worked with him personally._

_For a full transcript of the interview, turn to page 42_

I laughed in surprise. "What flair," I murmured. "He certainly knows how to turn something to his own advantage."

Hermione laughed along with me. "That's not all. That Prophet was from the day before this paper came out. Luna tells me that Malfoy paid for the printing and the distribution, as well as all the workers salaries, for that day. Because all the hawkers were literally giving the paper away, almost four times as many as this Prophet" she shook the paper, "went out. And now, because of word of mouth and free papers, everyone knows that Rufus is up to something screwy and Malfoy had no part in it."

I grinned. I just loved it when something went horrendously wrong for someone I hated.

She continued. "And since he publicly declared Malfoy a free man, expecting to get a well trained lapdog in return, he's stuck." She shook her head and flopped backwards onto my bed. "When are people going to learn that you just don't fuck with a Malfoy?"

I shrugged. "Some people just weren't blessed with brains." She giggled, then sighed.

"Have you found anything on whatever the fuck these dreams are?" I asked after a few moments. She shifted guiltily. I rolled my eyes. "Never mind."

… … …

Then next couple days passed in a blur. I was having trouble staying awake, and when I did sleep, it was to wake up with an urgent need to be _somewhere_. I just didn't, couldn't know where that was.

Hermione had turned her attention to researching these dreams, splitting her time between me and the library. I'd found out from her that The Traitor was keeping the takeover of my welfare quiet, which meant that everyone assumed that everyone else knew where I was. Hermione was the only visitor I was allowed, besides Rufus, because if they'd denied her she'd have done something rash, like kill him.

And Rufus couldn't lose his Head Medi Witch because of something so trivial.

Before I knew it, two weeks had gone by. Hermione had taken all the mirrors out of the Infirmary, saying as she did so, "You look like shit- but I'm the only one that needs to know that."

I didn't tell her that had I asked, Hogwarts would create a mirror for me. She so loved controlling my life when I was sick. Besides, if it was that bad then I didn't want to know.

Two days into the third week, I woke up from one of my now-nightmares to see her sitting beside me, looking grim. I tossed the covers off and got up, walking around the room to loosen up muscles that had tensed during the night. "You might as well get it over with." I said, my back to her.

She was quiet, so I knew it was bad. Usually, she spouted off the first thing on her mind. "I figured out what it is." she began softly. I had to stain to hear her. "It's a spell called Heart's Desire. I don't think that was what she meant to cast at you, but that's what it is."

A deep breath. "Its purpose is to reveal to the one on whom it was cast the thing they desire the most. Simple, right?"

"There has got to be a catch." I interjected.

"You're right." Deep breath. "If you don't or can't find what you desire, the urge to find it will eventually drive you insane. The longer you wait, the more likely it is that you won't find it."

I turned to face her, finally, and discovered why her voice had sounded do odd. There were tears on her cheeks, glinting in the morning light. I walked over to her and wiped them off, placing my palm against her face.

With a sigh I sat next to her, hand sliding from hr face to capture one of hers. We stared out of the window and watched the sun rise. I shook my head, but I had to say it. "He set up the perfect trap, and he didn't even know it."

I wrapped my arms around my friend, felt her tears sink into my shirt as I went on. "Unable to leave to find what I need, I'll become the insane monster he has everyone fearing I am."

Her head came up with a jolt, eyes angry. "That bastard," she hissed, sounding for a moment so like Voldemort that I just stared at her. "That complete and utter jack ass."

She twisted so that she could look me straight in the eyes. "I swear to you, Harry, that I will do everything in my power to get you out of here."

"I know you will."

… … …

It was starting to hurt to wake up, to know that when I wake up I put myself farther and father away from the desire I might never get to see. Hermione was almost always gone, and when she was with me, she told me how her fight was going. She'd made it public knowledge, with help from the Quibbler and Malfoy, that I was being refused medical help for the last curse from the Final Battle.

_People are starting to get angry_, she'd tell me. _You'll get out of here soon_. Oh, how I wanted to believe her, but the constant draw of sleep, of knowing, once again, the name and features and angles and panes of my Heart's Desire was almost all encompassing.

I sagged against her side, strength forgotten in this, the fourth week of my battle. I gave a hoarse little laugh. "If this spell is to let me know my heart's desire, then why has the window not become the focus of my attention?"

I felt her stiffen as she grasped my meaning. Voice cold, she looked down at me. "Don't you ever dare to mention suicide in my presence again, Harry James Potter. Do you understand?"

I just nodded.

"Good." Came the reply. "And the reason that other options have not become desirable is because they aren't your heart's true wish. That one thing will never change, not for anything." She drew the blanket up over my now thin shoulders and continued.

"What you were referring to was a conscious wish. You can have several of those, and they are can change. That's the difference, you see. You can control the conscious wish, but not the heart's desire."

My laugh was ragged this time. "What could I possibly want so badly that I could drive me insane?"

"I don't know, Harry. I don't know."

I changed the subject. "How's the Traitor's campaign coming along?" I asked hoarsely.

A vicious grin crossed Hermione's face. "Not well, but I would have expected that, given who's running against him. He's actually postponed the elections until after the holidays. Gives him about two more weeks to try to recoup his losses."

"Who? And when is Christmas?" My voice was tried and losing strength. Hermione squeezed my shoulders.

"Snape, of all people, and in four days."

My chuckle turned into a cough. When the fit passed, I gave Hermione a weak grin and said, "Good luck to him. If it means anything, tell him he has my endorsement. And I haven't gotten anybody anything for Christmas, yet…" I trailed off as I fell asleep. The last thing I remembered was Hermione tucking the covers around me.

… … …

I remember very little of the next few days. What I do know is that I was getting much, much worse. The dreams no longer kept to my sleep- they plagued me throughout the day, echoing across my mind whenever I blinked. I know Hermione came to see me, but I don't remember very much of what she said.

She told me that Snape was holding a Christmas and New Years ball here, in the Great Hall. Told me that all her attempts to tell people where I was being hidden had been met with failure. Told me that The Traitor wasn't giving an inch on releasing me.

If I had been in my right mind, this would have depressed me. Instead, I found that I could laugh about it as I chased shadows of my dreams through the Hospital Wing.

… … …

I don't know how it happened, but maybe Hogwarts had something to do with it. Because one night I found myself skipping along a corridor I vaguely remembered was on the third floor, and wasn't the Hospital Wing on the second?

No matter to me. My dreams had taken flight and danced around me, inviting and caressing my face and neck, pulling me somewhere. I didn't care- I was beyond caring. All I wanted was to lose myself in the dreams, to finally give in and discover what had been hidden from me.

I know I was talking out loud, saying jumbled phrases and giggling like a child at the whispered assurances of my fantasies. There was no one in my castle, no one to disturb my farewell to the world of the sane. They beckoned, they did, drawing me ever closer to understanding and peace.

There was a corridor, here was a staircase- I jumped the vanishing steps lightly, eyes on promises only I could see. But a sound drew my attention, to the disappointment of my play fellows. A scuff of a shoe on stone, a sound from my years as a student, so very far away.

I turned, head tilted in curiosity, and saw a familiar figure, though the face was hidden by the gloom of the hallways.

I skipped over to him, moving to peer into his face as I asked, "What are you doing in my cast…" the words slid to a halt. I could not force them out; my tongue was stuck, my dreams and fancy's dismissed.

Malfoy gawked at me. "Potter?" he said, surprise evident in his tone and face. "What are you doing? Where have you been? Everyone has been looking for you for ages…What happened to you? Why are you laughing?"

I'd tuned him out, struck by the irony of the situation. Here I was, saying a fond farewell to the castle, and then suddenly, _bam!!!_ out of nowhere, I find him. What must be my Heart's Desire. Draco _bloody fucking _Malfoy.

I started laughing, and couldn't stop, not even to answer the concerned blond's questions.

I just kept laughing, and laughing, and laughing…

… … …

_Yeah… Cliffie, I know. Don't kill me- the sequel _is written_, I'm just gonna wait a bit to post it. Like, mebbe, three or four days. If I can wait that long. Alright, I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it, and see y'all later!_

_MannyWitch_


End file.
